Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
▬▬ι══════༻❁༺══════ι▬▬
I THOUGHT sleep would come easy tonight. After two straight days of fighting with nothing but an hour's rest between them, I thought I might finally be able to rest and escape the horrors I've endured. But as it turns out, I'm not so lucky.
The war is finally over — after three hundred years of suffering, the Narnians are free — and I can't sleep.
Figures.
I give up the hopeless battle and search for a dress, slipping it on overtop my shift and leaving Cornelius's study. Without thinking much about it, I start toward the western tower.
It feels strange to walk the halls of the castle wearing my real skin. After so long spent hiding, I can't help but feel as if I should change my hair and sculpt a new face should someone see me. But I have to remind myself those days are over, even though some part of me refuses to believe it. I don't have to hide anymore.
I don't have to worry about maintaining the lies, sneaking into council meetings and dodging Caspian's neverending questions of 'where have you been' and 'why are you always so tired.' I don't have to balance my servant duties with espionage and both my Telmarine and Narnian lessons. I don't have to do any of it.
What am I going to do now? I think. Everything is changing so fast and I'm not quite sure where I'll fit into it all. The thought worries me. No wonder I can't sleep.
Something echoes in the empty walls of the castle and makes me stop in my tracks. Holding my breath, I listen for the noise again.
Footsteps.
I sigh, closing my eyes and leaning my back against the nearest wall, the cool stones like ice against my skin. They're just footsteps. I have no reason to be so afraid of another person in a damned castle full of them.
Except I do. My mind is reeling through all the possibilities and threats; who might be wandering the castle so late and why. Whether it could be a Telmarine intent on assassinating Caspian before his coronation, or one of Nikabrik's followers harbouring a grudge for the black dwarf's death and seeking revenge. All I can think of is whether the kings and queens and Caspian might be in some sort of danger.
Logically, I know each of them has guards posted outside their rooms and heavy locks on their doors, but that doesn't do anything to reassure me. Not when I'm still functioning on the same high-alert survival mode I adopted while travelling with the Pevensies — watching and listening for enemies in the trees.
I know I won't be able to think straight until I know it's nothing, so I follow the footsteps, making sure to keep my own light and silent.
I round the corner and hurry along the corridor, following the steady, brisk-paced echoes of boots against stone. They quickly grow louder the closer I get and I realize we must be headed toward each other. With this in mind, I place myself in their path and duck into a linen closet, listening quietly for whoever roams the halls.
